The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell novel Chapter 124

Danielle froze for a moment.

Once she pieced things together, she wasn't surprised they were sharing a room. After all, Millie was always dropping by the house, sleeping in what used to be their master bedroom. Now, the two of them moving in together felt almost inevitable.

What caught her off guard was just how brazen they were about it—no hesitation at all, just coming and going from the same room.

Danielle tore her gaze away, closed her door, and headed over to the campsite to help out.

By the time she'd managed to shepherd all her tipsy coworkers back to their rooms, making sure each one was settled in, it was already past ten at night. Danielle stopped by the front desk to grab some antiseptic, then finally returned to her room.

She was about to take a shower when the doorbell rang.

Danielle frowned, assuming it was Kirsten or Gian. She set down her change of clothes and went to open the door.

Standing there was Raffy, clutching a bundle of pajamas, his face set in that stubborn, imperious pout. "Give me a bath," he demanded.

She hadn't given him a bath in ages—he'd long since grown out of needing her help.

Danielle's eyes cooled, her tone flat. "And who am I to you, exactly? Why should I give you a bath?"

Raffy met her chilly look without a flicker of fear. "Dad and Mom are busy. You're the only one who can help me tonight. I'm sleeping here with you."

He clearly had no intention of interrupting his dad and Millie in their "quality time."

Danielle's expression hardened as she started to close the door.

But Raffy darted past her, slipping right under her arm and into the room.

He plopped himself on the bed and crossed his arms. "Hurry up and give me a bath."

"You took my mom's place for years. You should make it up to me—you owe me!"

Even Danielle, who'd built walls around her heart, felt the sting of those words.

How could a child so young be so sharp and cruel?

She'd poured every ounce of love she had into raising him, cherished him, protected him as if he were her own.

But in his eyes, she was nothing more than a servant, someone to wait on him. Not a trace of motherly affection—only obligation.

This only confirmed what she'd been feeling: letting go of Raffy was the right choice.

He worked out regularly—his physique was still as impressive as ever.

Alexander glanced at Danielle, his face unreadable. "What's going on?"

Danielle hesitated for a second at the sight of him. Fresh out of the shower, it was obvious what he and Millie had been up to—or were about to be.

She could hear the faint sound of running water from the bathroom inside, but it wasn't her concern anymore.

She looked away, her voice cold. "Your son. You deal with him."

With that, she let go of Raffy and turned to leave.

But just as she stepped away, Alexander's hand closed around her wrist, holding her back.

She instinctively tried to pull free, glaring at him. "What are you doing? Let go."

His eyes were dark, expression almost indifferent, but he released her.

Then, in a flat tone, he said, "Isn't he your son, too?"